A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

choices, friend – only the one possibility remains, as it always has. I am Tennes – the goddess's own warren – and what assails her assails me as well. Aye, I could shatter the one who has so infected her—'
    'The Crippled God,' Rake murmured, going perfectly still. 'He has spent an eternity nurturing his spite – he will be without mercy, Brood. This is an old tale. We agreed – you, I, the Queen of Dreams, Hood – we all agreed ...'
    The warlord's broad face seemed on the verge of crumpling. Then he shook himself as would a bear, turned away. 'Almost twelve hundred years, this burden—'
    'And if she dies?'
    He shook his head. 'I do not know. Her warren dies, surely, that at the least, even as it becomes the Crippled God's pathway into every other warren ... then they all die.'
    'And with that, all sorcery.'
    The warlord nodded, then drew a deep breath and straightened. 'Would that be so bad a thing, do you think?'
    Rake snorted. 'You assume the destruction would end with that. It seems that, no matter which of the two choices is made, the Crippled God wins.'
    'So it seems.'
    'Yet, having made your choice, you gift this world, and everyone on it, with a few more generations of living—'
    'Living, and dying, waging wars and unleashing slaughter. Of dreams, hopes and tragic ends—'
    'Not a worthy track, these thoughts of yours, Caladan.' Rake stepped closer. 'You have done, you continue to do, all that could be asked of you. We were there to share your burden, back then, but it seems we are – each of us – ever drawn away, into our own interests . . . abandoning you. . .'
    'Leave this path, Anomander. It avails us nothing. There are more immediate concerns to occupy this rare opportunity to speak in private.'
    Rake's broad mouth found a thin smile. 'True enough.' He glanced over to the tent's entrance. 'Out there ...' He faced Brood again, 'Given the infection of Tennes, was your challenge a bluff?'
    The warlord bared his filed teeth. 'Somewhat, but not entirely. The question is not my ability to unleash power, it is the nature of that power. Wrought through with poison, rife with chaos—'
    'Meaning it might well be wilder than your usual maelstrom? That is alarming indeed, Brood. Is Kallor aware of this?'
    'No.'
    Rake grunted. 'Best keep it that way.'
    'Aye,' the warlord growled. 'So practise some restraint of your own, next time, Rake.'
    The Tiste Andii walked over to pour himself some wine. 'Odd, I could have sworn I'd just done that.'
    'We must now speak of the Pannion Domin.'
    'A true mystery indeed, Caladan. Far more insidious than we had surmised. Layers of power, one hidden beneath another, then another. The Warren of Chaos lies at its heart, I suspect – and the Great Ravens concur.'
    'This strides too close a path to the Crippled God for it to be accidental, Rake. The Chained One's poison is that of Chaos, after all.'
    'Aye,' Rake smiled. 'Curious, isn't it? I think there can be no question of who is using whom—'
    'Maybe.'
    'Dealing with the Pannion Domin will present us with formidable challenges.'
    Brood grimaced, 'As the child insisted, we will need help.'
    The Son of Darkness frowned. 'Explain, please.'
    'The T'lan Imass, friend. The undead armies are coming.'
    The Tiste Andii's face darkened. 'Is this Dujek Onearm's contribution, then?'
    'No, the child. Silverfox. She is a flesh and blood Bonecaster, the first in a long, long time.'
    'Tell me of her.'
    The warlord did, at length, and when he was done there was silence in the tent.
     
    Studying Paran with hooded eyes, Whiskeyjack strode over. The young captain was trembling, as if gripped by fever, his face bone-white and slick with sweat. Quick Ben had somehow managed to lower the tabletop to the ground; sorcery still wreathed it with dancing lightning that seemed reluctant to fade. The wizard had crouched down beside it and Whiskeyjack recognized by his flat expression that the man was in a sorcerous trance. Questing, probing ...
    'You are a fool.'
    The commander turned at the rasping words. 'None the less, Kallor.'
    The tall, grey-haired man smiled coldly. 'You will come to regret your vow to protect the child.'
    Shrugging, Whiskeyjack turned to resume his walk.
    'I am not done with you!' Kallor hissed.
    'But I am with you,' the Malazan calmly replied, continuing on.
    Paran was facing him now. The captain's eyes were wide, uncomprehending. Behind him, the Tiste Andii had begun to drift away, spectral and seemingly indifferent now